Maddam Puddifoot's
by flowersforelephants
Summary: Draco and Hermione go out to Madam Puddifoot's to get to know eachother a bit better after a pact to not fight with eachother as Heads. AU excludes HBP and DH oneshot


A/N Hey people! So this was originally a story I wrote for English about Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson going on a date… (weird assignment but whatever) and had to put in quotes from each of their poems. However, being the classic fanfic writer I was channeling Draco and Hermione the entire time… with some weirdness to it…. : ) so enjoy a rather odd story of Draco and Hermione at Madam Puddifoot's! YAY!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing 'cept the plot! OKAY????!!!!**

_**Madam Puddifoot's**_

Fallen leaves whisked across the cobbled street, the trees bristled from the wind and the shops that lined the streets where full of life. Every shop and restaurant was packed with people who where trying to avoid the cold, brisk weather. Even the run down bar at the end of the street had about thirty people inside, far more than the average three or five. There was one shop owned by a well known French woman who adored romance and love, Madam Puddifoot. She served her customers various teas and crumpets and watched so many young people fall into love. It made her heart swell with joy to see that her shop had such a wonderful impact on the people who came inside.

The bell that hung over the shop door clinked as it opened and two people walked inside, each looking somewhat nervous about the other's company. Madam Puddifoot smiled as she walked over to the flustered couple with poise and grace.

"Welcome to Madam Puddifoot's! Table for two I take it?" Madam Puddifoot asked ever so sweetly with a broad smiled that graced her features as the young man nodded quickly. "This way please then." She turned and led them to a table in a corner of the shop that was highly prized for its seclusion. She sat them down and handed each of them a menu that listed all of the various teas and breads that they served.

"I'll be back shortly to take your order dears." Madam Puddifoot smiled brightly and glided away leaving the two looking everywhere except at each other.

"It, uh, sure is quite pink in here, is it not?" the young girl whispered, not quite sure of her own voice.

"Um, yes. It sure is." The man that sat across from her murmured and the girl sighed. She had no idea what she could possibly talk about with the man who sat across from her. Her first attempt had just failed miserably when she mentioned the surroundings and now wished that the lady who sat them would come back and take their orders. She stole a glace at Draco who was now admiring the painting that looked over their table. It really was quite handsome.

"That's a beautiful painting." Hermione tried again to get Draco to start talking to her. It wasn't that she didn't like the silence that had fallen between them for much of the evening but there seemed to be a crackling tension between the two.

"Yes it is." Hermione's eyes flickered with brief hope at his voice, that maybe the night wouldn't be spent in complete silence and completely gone to the dogs. "You can almost see the hope in the girl's face as she sits on the porch, the dark colors of the house contrast with the light color of her dress and the flowers in her hand. It's almost like she's waiting for someone." Hermione looked at Draco, surprised at all he could see in the painting she had never met someone who could look at something and see the life in everything like she could.

"Hope? Yes I can see that, but I've always seen that hope is the thing with feathers, that perches on the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all. And sweetest in the gale is heard; and sore must be the storm, that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm." Draco gapped at her, amazed at the words that had flowed so flawlessly across her lips.

"That was beautiful, pure poetry." Draco breathed as Hermione's cheeks grew warm and flushed.

"I wrote it. I adore writing poetry." Hermione smiled meekly and shifted her gaze downward. Draco looked at the wondrous creature that sat before of him.

"You wri-"

"Hello dears! Sorry I've been gone for a while, some couple had a nasty spat. Tea and Crumpets everywhere! Poor things. So, what can I get you?"

"I'll have the chamomile please and a croissant as well." Hermione said quietly.

"And how would you like your tea?"

"Three sugars and a splash of milk, please."

"And you sir?"

"I'll have the same I suppose."

"Delightful! I'll be back shortly with your meal!" once more Madam Puddifoot bustled off happily.

"She is too happy for her own good." Draco muttered, causing a small giggle to pass across Hermione's lips and a smile to grace her features. "Anyway, you write poetry now do you?"

"Oh yes. I love the way words can flow when you put them together in just the right way. What do you think of poetry Draco?"

"I too am a writer of such wondrous words. I am not to be tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world."

"Your barbaric yawp? My, those words are quite descriptive." Hermione laughed.

"Yes, well, I try. But back where I come from I find that my works can be somewhat controversial seeing as they don't follow the traditional structure of poetry. But at least it is recognized. Hermione, we should publish your poetry! It would be fantastic for others to be able to ready your wonderful works."

"I couldn't! How dreary to be somebody! How public like a frog, to tell your name the live long day, to an admiring bog!" Draco gazed at Hermione surprised at her dislike for being well known; after all she was best friends with the one and only _Harry_ _Potter_. It had always appeared to him that one would appreciate and want to be in the lime light for something like poetry or literature.

"Amazing." Draco muttered

"Hello again dears! Here is your tea! With three sugars and a splash of milk in each! Do enjoy!" Madam Puddifoot disappeared as quickly as she had appeared and both Draco and Hermione stared at their tea as silence started to overcome them once more.

"So about how many poems have you written?" Draco asked softly.

"Not many, just enough to fill a few journals."

"Really? That's quite remarkable. I too have written my fair share but I'm not sure if there are enough to complete a _few_ journals." Hermione smiled at took a sip of her tea.

"Well I don't really have much else to do back at home, so I write."

"I must read them sometime, that is if it's alright with you." Hermione smiled and nodded her head and Draco grinned.

"I shall have to read so of yours as well."

"But of course." They clinked their teacups together and toasted to poetry and the start of something new.


End file.
